


Tryptych One Part 2 - A Change of Tide

by JoansGlove



Series: Slow Dance [2]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: A tale of loss and reunion, of awakenings and doubt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks and dedications to Duchess

_Tonight was Joan’s 16 th birthday, but there was no big party (she had no circle of friends to invite after all), just a small family meal at the best restaurant in town. Her father had been boasting for weeks what a special night it was going to be, but Joan didn’t want to be there. She knew that it was more about him demonstrating what a good father he was than a celebration for her, and had dragged her heels hoping that he would call it off. He hadn’t of course, she never really expected that he would; and she was way too scared of him to flatly refuse to attend. _

_So now she was sitting across a beautifully laid table from him and Brian, wearing an ugly dress of bulky brown corduroy (a present from her father – too wide, and too short in the arm for her gangly frame), feeling ugly, and wishing that she could be anywhere else; with anyone else._

_The waiter had taken their order and, whilst he hovered to one side as her father perused the wine list, Joan let her melancholic gaze wander idly around the restaurant. Her attention was drawn to the faint clatter and gleam of a cocktail shaker and she turned her head towards the distraction, her eyes drifting over the party of diners chatting and drinking cocktails whilst they waited for their table. As she watched them, Joan realised that there was something strangely familiar about the tall woman standing alone at one end of the small bar._

_She turned and stared at Joan over the Major’s shoulder. She barely recognised Maggie at first, but then she dropped a wink that Joan would have known anywhere. Maggie’s long, brown hair had been cut short and blow-dried back off her face. Her tanned throat and upper chest were bare, and the wide collar of her mannish shirt spread over the lapels of her midnight blue velvet jacket to display a fine golden chain glinting at her throat. Joan felt an unnameable tingle spread through her blood._

_Maggie had been painfully absent ever since the weekend her father had thrashed her with the training foil, almost nine months back. The Major had a new Personal Assistant. One of the gossipy women in the typing pool told her that Maggie had transferred to Deep Filing, the out of town facility where Intelligence went to die._

_When she asked him if this was true, her father informed her that Maggie had been so saddened by Joan's behaviour that she had asked for a move, saying that she never wanted to be put in that position again. He said that he had lost face in Maggie's eyes - the eyes of a subordinate - and that it was all her fault. He was very disappointed._

_Unable to confirm otherwise, Joan had no choice but to take him at his word. Yet she suspected that each one of those words was a lie._

_Her friend held a finger to her lips and pointed towards the Ladies’ restroom then held up two fingers and mouthed ‘two minutes, OK?’ Joan flashed a look at her father and Brian, and gave the tiniest nod._

_120 seconds had never seemed quite so long as the second hand crawled a torturous double circuit of her watch face. A rare feeling of happiness beat inside her as she wondered why Maggie had chosen this evening to reappear, but she took care to keep her expression neutral and her eyes lowered lest her father, or sneaky brother, noticed and delay her with difficult questions._

_Cautiously pushing the door open, Joan was relieved to find that the stylishly feminine Ladies room was empty save for Maggie. The deep blue jacket rode up over her tightly trousered backside as she dried her hands and Joan found her gaze riveted to the two plumply curving cheeks that peeked from under the hem. Maggie turned at the thud of the door as it closed and smiled broadly. “Hello, Joan. Happy birthday.”_

_“Hello, Maggie.” Joan felt unusually hot as she smiled at the ‘new’ Maggie, her skin prickled under her stiff dress. “I, I thought you’d gone forever.” She looked at the floor between them, “Dad said I’d upset you…” she said in a small voice, her expression suddenly solemn and wary._

_“Oh, love… You could never upset me… Come here.” Maggie closed the gap between them and opened her arms to the awkward girl._

_As Joan slipped into her embrace Maggie was glad that she couldn’t see the sudden sadness in her face. She’d kept her distance as Kireyev had ordered - it had been safer for Joan - but it hadn’t stopped Maggie fretting over the welfare of his daughter.  And now, she had to increase that distance further…._

_Her body helplessly responded to the intense heat radiating from the thin girl as she hugged her slender frame close. Joan brought out a strong maternal feeling in her but there was something new and sudden too. Something bordering on sexual that she knew she shouldn’t be experiencing, and Maggie felt a powerful wave of shame break through her. But she also felt a crippling sense of guilt at how she was letting this vulnerable child down. She wished that the next few minutes didn’t have to happen – for either of them._

_Wrapped in Maggie's arms, Joan didn’t ever want this to end. She wasn’t aware of how profoundly she needed the simple, undemanding contact of someone she trusted; all she knew was that she felt safe. The sudden rush of this primal emotion left her feeling light headed and slightly breathless and she buried her face in the older woman’s firm shoulder, dark hair spilling over, then catching on the soft nap of her velvet jacket as she breathed in Maggie's cologne._

_With reluctance, Maggie released Joan and gently squeezed her upper arms as she delivered the bad news. “I_ am _going away, Joan. I’m leaving the Army and moving interstate.” She could feel hot tears pricking as she held Joan's bewildered gaze._

_Joan was dumbstruck, she could never have imagined that this would be the last time she’d ever see Maggie. A surge of anger engulfed her, why come back at all if it was only to say goodbye forever? Wasn’t destroying her once enough? Her mouth opened but words failed her._

_“Joan, I have to,” Maggie explained softly as Joan's lip quivered, “your father has seen to that.” Her fingers stroked their way down to Joan's stiff hands, “but before I go, I need you to know that nothing that has happened to you was ever your fault. Your father is a vicious, vindictive man. His view of the world can be strangely narrow and his pride is easily wounded.”_

_Joan looked at her quizzically, a frown playing on her plain features as her sudden anger subsided. “I, I don’t understand,” she managed._

_“I threatened him and he’s destroying me for it.” Joan's frown deepened to a scowl. “I told him that he should be prosecuted for the way he treated you that night. For the way he touched you... He threatened me with a dishonourable discharge but settled for transferring me to the Army equivalent of Siberia.”_

_Joan's mouth tightened. “I knew it! I knew you hadn’t asked for the transfer!” Her eyes glittered blackly as she saw how they had both been punished by his actions._

_“No, I didn’t, but I have resigned, Joan, my career is finished. My new CO made it clear that he didn’t want a woman like me in his unit, and nor would any other Commanding Officer. Your father has ruined me, it’s only a matter of time before they find some trumped up charge and bust me down the ranks.” She’d agonised over this decision for months, she knew that she would never recover rank following a demotion and, she was so disillusioned with her beloved Army, she wasn’t sure that she even wanted to try. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from future employers either. And nor could she stay in town as a civilian and watch over Joan, who knew what Kireyev would do if he learned of that…_

_“Miserable bastard! I hate him!” Joan's eyes flashed darkly and her hands clenched into fists at the resigned sadness in Maggie's face. He had done this to her all her life. As soon as she began to feel comfortable around someone, he scared them off. But as far as she knew, none of them had ever stood up to him like Maggie had. No wonder he’d hurt them both for it._

_“Joan,” Maggie hesitated, Joan's answer had the potential to change all her plans. “He hasn’t beaten you again has he?”_

_“No, he’s pushed me about a bit but he hasn’t actually hit me.” She offered a flicker of a smile as if this moderate violence was some consolation._

_“Good, that’s something at least.” Maggie reached up and stroked Joan's raven hair, her fingers slipping over the soft locks until her palm gently cupped the girl’s cheek. Her eyes were suddenly full of concern, “and he’s never tried to… to touch you again?”_

_“No.” She couldn’t hide the relief in her voice and Maggie nodded in satisfaction._

_“If he does, promise me you’ll tell the Police or Colonel Henderson? Will you promise me that, Joan? It’s important that you do.”_

_There was a fierceness in her stare that made Joan nod wordlessly despite her horror at telling a stranger something like that._

_“When do you leave?”_

_“Tonight.” Unable to meet Joan's gaze, Maggie pulled away and fished her cigarettes from her jacket pocket. Lighting one she leaned against the sink and chewed on her thumbnail._

_The words were out before she could catch them. “Take me with you, Maggie. Please?” A part of her knew just how irrational this sounded but right now she was so confused and upset, she didn’t actually care._

_Turning back to Joan, Maggie took her by the shoulders and stared intently into her face. “Joan, I can’t. Your father would never let you go!”_

_“I’d do it on his next furlough. He’ll never know.” Joan's eyes shone as the fantasy played out in her mind. She could just take the bus fare from the housekeeping kitty and slip away._

_“Oh, god, Joan…” Releasing her, Maggie scrubbed her face with a long-fingered hand at the girl’s naïveté. “That simple, eh?” she asked, one brow creeping upwards._

_“I’m sixteen now, I have rights!”_

_“And I would have responsibilities I can’t fulfil, Joan, I couldn’t look after you. I have no job, no place of my own, no husband… No court would give me Guardianship.” Maggie took a deep pull on her cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling as she raked her fingers through her hair. She looked sadly at the crestfallen teenager, “oh, Joan, I really wish it was as simple as you just packing a bag… But I’m not going to be responsible for you running away. Finish school and if you have to, go to the most distant university you can find. You’ll be eighteen then and he won’t be able to stop you.”_

_“As easy as that, eh?”_

_Cocking her head to one side, Maggie pursed her lips at the teenager’s sullen expression. “No, it won’t be easy but, if you pack in your education now, you can kiss goodbye to a career that will get you out of this town - and away from him.” She raised her eyebrows, challenging Joan to deny this fact._

_“Promise me that you’ll get away from him as soon as you can, Joan? For your own sake?” Maggie pressed a slip of paper into Joan's limp hand, “when you do, or, if he ever hurts you again, leave a message on this number and I’ll be in touch.” And then she said something which Joan thought rather odd. “Remember, whatever he tells you, you are not wrong to love who you love, never let anyone tell you otherwise.” She hugged Joan tightly and kissed her tenderly on the side of her mouth as she stepped away. “Come on, best be getting back, eh?” Grinding out her cigarette, she took Joan's hand and led her towards the door._

_The Major blocked their exit; he glared at his former Junior Officer. “Joan, go and get in the car,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving Maggie’s, “I want to talk to Ferguson.”_

_“But Dad, we haven’t eaten!”_

_“I said get in the car! Now! I will not have my daughter subverted too.” He failed to see the look of incomprehension on his daughter’s face._

_Joan, her wide eyes like black diamonds in her ashen face, gave Maggie one last look and squeezed past her father. As she sidled past him his long fingers gripped the phone number and pulled it, unseen by Maggie, from her slack grasp. He pocketed it as he moved to crowd his subordinate._

_He tried to back Maggie up into the Ladies but she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated, then pushed past him into the corridor. Maggie lifted her chin and matched his flinty stare. “I’m leaving the Army, but don’t think that you’ve won.”_

_Kireyev said nothing but a gleam entered his eyes and he gave a slow nod of smug approval._

_“And don’t think that you're free of me either, Kireyev, not with what I know.”_

_“You don’t have the guts,” he sneered._

_Maggie closed the space between them. “Just you try me, you bastard,” she hissed. “You might be able to charm everybody else, but I’ve got the measure of you. If you ever hurt Joan like that again, touch her in that way, then I will happily back her up when the Police investigate. And I’m sure that Colonel Henderson would take an extremely dim view of your behaviour, after all, he has daughters too whom he_ dotes _on – I think he’d be seriously concerned to find that his command was harbouring a child molester.” She swept her contemptuous gaze over his stony expression and turned smartly on her heel before casually walking away on legs that felt like jelly._


	2. Chapter 2

Joan was still living in her father’s house. He’d been dead the last month and she was mired in the bog of Probate, no will could be found and she couldn’t afford to find her own place yet, no matter how much she hated every inch of her childhood home. The Salvos had cleared it of all her father’s furniture, allowing her to replace basic items such as a couch and a wardrobe from their warehouse. She’d boxed up his photographs and trophies and they sat with Brian’s stuff in the garage. The only things of his that were of any use to her was his car and his fencing gear, and she didn’t have to use, or see them if she didn’t want to.

But despite its emptiness, the house still exuded her father’s presence, his memory was so strong that she half expected to see him every time she entered a room. The only thing that made it bearable to remain there was that her brother was away at university, and she was finally alone. He blamed her for their father’s illness and, at the funeral, had let her know that he thought she should have looked after him better; essentially, Brian had said, she’d killed him, and he wouldn’t forgive her for it - ever.

She found that she could live with that.

 

Her face brightened when she opened the door and saw Maggie standing there, and she grinned in delight, all her cares falling away as she flung her arms around her old friend. “I never thought I’d see you again…!” she breathed and  hugged Maggie tightly, her body buzzing with excitement, then she remembered her manners and invited her in.

The Major had inserted his Junior Officer into his children’s lives when Joan was twelve, and she had instantly taken to the quiet young woman. She was tall and had an interesting face; and she was kind to Joan. Maggie had always provided support, had guided her, helped her make sense of life in her father’s world. Even though she knew why Maggie had left town and cut all contact, Joan had missed her keenly – and for a long time too. It had cut her to the quick when her father had made her watch as he’d burned the telephone number Maggie had given to her on her birthday.

 

Joan’s eyes drank in the older woman. She hadn’t changed at all, she even smelled the same. Joan felt a flush creep up her neck and across her cheeks as butterflies chased around in her stomach.

“I heard about your dad, Joan. But I had no idea that you were still living with him…” Maggie broke off and briefly squeezed Joan's bare shoulder, her fingers tingled as if burned by the heat of the pale girl’s skin, “I didn’t know if you’d even still be here in the house, but I had to come and find out if you were OK...  you are OK, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Joan smiled and hugged Maggie enthusiastically, half-strangling her in the process, “god, it’s so good to see you again!” she gasped in excitement.

 

Word of Kireyev’s demise had found Maggie less than two days ago. Bone weary, she’d arrived home from six-week secondment in Darwin to find a scrawled telephone message pinned to her bedroom door. As usual, her housemate had neglected to date it.

“WENDY RANG.

RE: KIREYEV.

FUNERAL TUESDAY. “

Maggie's heart had contracted until it was a lump of granite knocking behind her chest. She’d felt faint, hot and sick, as she’d dialled the number Wendy had left, praying that it was the Major’s - and not his daughter’s - that the message referred to. A sleepy Wendy had confirmed that the Major had been buried three weeks ago but that was all she knew. She’d only rung Maggie because she thought that she’d have wanted to spit on his grave.

 

This had been her one chance to find Joan again. Joan’s initial silence had been a relief but when, what would have been Joan's first year at university rolled by, Maggie hadn’t still heard from her she didn’t know whether to feel saddened that Joan didn’t need their friendship any longer, or worried that perhaps she’d lost the phone number and was still at the mercy of her father. She didn’t know what she might find when she arrived, but her gut told her she needed to go and find out.  

She’d booked the next scheduled flight to Cairns and then a twin prop to get her to Townsville. After dumping her stuff in a motel, a brief visit to the town library had yielded a saccharine obituary to Kireyev in the local rag and, in amongst the simpering accolades, it referred to his loving daughter and how she had supported him through his long illness. Maggie had taken the chance that she would still be at the family home.

 

She did a double take at the young woman who opened the door to her. Taller than ever she bested Maggie by at least two inches, even in her bare feet. She’d cut her hair, the tousled bob emphasising her strong jawline and framing her dark eyes with a feathery fringe. The rounded softness of childhood had given way to a slender angularity tempered by womanly curves that filled her thin sun dress. Gone too, was the aura of what Maggie had always thought of as ‘beaten dog’ – even at first glance, Joan appeared freer in herself, more comfortable.

 

As Maggie tightened her own arms around Joan's back she knew that this young woman had never rejected their friendship and she was immensely glad.

 

They sat together on the small sofa, knees touching; at Joan's insistence, Maggie had been telling her about her new life and now they were beginning to discuss Joan’s next move over a second bottle of Ivan’s wine.

“Well you must be nearing the end of your degree, surely that gives you plenty of options to consider?”

“I’m not at Uni.” Joan looked into her glass and swirled its ruby contents, “Dad wanted me to get into the National Fencing Team.”

“OK,” said Maggie slowly, her surprise evident in her raised eyebrows, “and are you? In the team I mean.”

“No,” she glanced at Maggie then stared at the empty mantel piece. “I made the Reserve squad but Dad wouldn’t let go me once he realised that I’d be living and training in Canberra, and that he couldn’t come because I was over eighteen. We had a huge row,” Joan smiled thinly, “I finally stood up for myself and told him that I was going, and that’s when he had his stroke. I’ve spent the last year nursing him.” She drained her glass and grimaced, “I should have gone when I had the chance.”

 

Pouring herself another drink, Joan finally gave voice to the thoughts that had slowly solidified into certainty over the last few months. “D’you know what? I think that I’ve nearly always disliked Dad, I definitely know that I’ve hated him at times, but there was always a part of me that still loved him, and I wanted so much for him to love me back. Stupid isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not stupid at all. Of course he loved you, Joan, I just think that he found it difficult to show it as you grew up. He only wanted what was best for you,” Maggie saw the derision in Joan's eyes, “well, what he thought was best, I suppose.”

“Yeah? Well it felt like all he wanted was for me to show him in a good light. As if he’d lose face if he let me be myself – that’s not love. Love is acceptance, isn’t it? Accommodating the things that you don’t particularly like. Hell, I didn’t like his sternness, his moods, his unreasonable demands – but I still loved him!

“In a way, Joan, you're lucky,” she paused as Joan rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of wine. “Not many people realise that both feelings can exist together in their heart and it isn’t easy to reconcile them when you're so young.”

 

“But I can’t explain why he treated you like he did. I don’t know, perhaps he thought that he could succeed with you where he failed with your mother.” Maggie cocked her head and gave Joan a speculative look, “But I do know that he was scared to death that you might be a lesbian, and after the incident with Nils, he was too ashamed to be relieved that you were ‘normal’.”

Joan blushed and stared wide-eyed at the other woman. She’d had some strange feelings, yes, but they didn’t rule her life - not like they did Nils’ – they’d just made her feel a bit funny that was all. And they were something that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about for years, it would just have added to her problems.

“But you’re not ‘normal’, are you, Joan?” Maggie ventured gently, “you’re like me, obliged to hide your true self from all but a few trusted souls. Tell me if I’m wrong…?”

 

Joan blushed even harder. “Why did you never say anything? Give me a hint? Were you scared of Dad?” Her expression was a mixture of petulance and amazement.

“You didn’t need to know, Joan. Of course I was scared of your father, I couldn’t risk it. Look, how bad do you think it would have been if he’d found out that not only was a lesbian looking after his daughter, but that his daughter was probably one too, eh? He’d have instantly assumed that I’d seduced you, turned you.” Maggie reached for the wine bottle and upended it into her glass, she took a deep swallow of the exceptionally good Merlot then twisted on the edge of the couch and looked deep into Joan's eyes, “if you think the beating he gave you over Nils was bad then just imagine his reaction to that! I’d have got away lightly with a dishonourable discharge, but you…?” Maggie shuddered and took a cigarette from the pack on the low table. “Anyway,” she muttered as she lit it, “it’s unseemly for an older woman to be paying too much attention to a teenager, however innocent the intention is.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m an adult now and I can make my own decisions.” Joan took a deep breath, she didn’t quite know how to express what she was feeling, what she realised she’d always felt… Her obsidian eyes flickered over Maggie's strong body, lingering on the hint of cleavage as they climbed to meet the older woman’s. “I’ve always really liked you, you know that, don’t you? When I was a kid I felt closer to you than I did my own family. I even used to daydream that you were my guardian instead of my dad – I still do. You always knew what to say to make me feel better when I didn’t know what to do. I, I want that again. I don’t want to lose you again, Maggie.”

“Joan, nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have got you out of this house, but apart from anything else, it wouldn’t have been appropriate given how most people view us…” Joan looked at her with questioning eyes. “You must know that the common belief is that lesbians aren’t born but made? That butch dykes turn pretty young girls into man-hating lesbos? That’s partly why he forbade me to see you, for fear of me ‘subverting’ you as he so indelicately put it; but I would never have crossed that line with you Joan, never.”

 

Joan emptied her glass. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, I think that I still ended up subverted.” Her cheeks burned as she held Maggie's hazel gaze. It was the first time that she had named this part of herself out loud.

“You’ve had girlfriends?”

“No. There’s never been anyone I ever really wanted to get close to. What’s the expression – 21 and never been kissed? Yeah, that’s me, give or take a few months.” She smiled crookedly. “Anyway, I’m not compatible with most people; Dad saw to that.” The bitterness in her voice almost broke Maggie’s heart. “Only you and Nils ever cared about me. I had no-one. I couldn’t go to Nils – I don’t even know where he is now! Down in Surfer’s somewhere. And I thought I’d lost you forever after Dad destroyed your number….”

“Joan, I think you need to unlearn some of your father’s ideas.” Maggie gently squeezed the young woman’s arm. “You should be getting out and meeting people, not continuing to live under his shadow. You're perfectly capable of making friends, and of keeping them. Look, if you want it enough, you can have anything in this life, and you don’t need the approval of others to get it either. You don’t have to hide who you are any more, Joan. You're free to live as you wish.”

Joan looked at her questioningly. “As I wish? I’m not sure I know how to do that. All I ever wanted was to be free of him and now that I am, I’m at a bit of a loss to be honest…”


	3. Chapter 3

Joan returned from the garage with more wine to find Maggie flicking through a box of old records.

“They were Mum’s. Mum loved this music; she was always playing it when we were little.” Joan picked up a single and flipped it over to read the label. “She would never let us touch these though – strange to think that no one’s played them since she left, isn’t it? I didn’t know we had them till I found them hidden away in the loft. I’ve been through this entire house and that’s the only thing of hers that I’ve found. Dad can’t have remembered they were there or he’d have thrown them out, I’m sure of it.”

“Well then, let’s give them an airing. I don’t think Sophia would mind.” Maggie smiled at Joan and began to load the vintage player with a random selection of black vinyl.

 

Maggie took the record from Joan and placed it on the turntable.  An upbeat but soul-laden song issued scratchily from the small speaker and echoed off the bare walls. Staxx or Atlantic Soul if she wasn’t mistaken.

“I used to dance with her before I went to bed. I missed that for a long time.” Joan caught the tune and began to sway a little self-consciously, her movements becoming freer with each passing moment as she let memory dictate her steps.

When was the last time Joan had been able to express herself like that? wondered Maggie as she returned to the low sofa. Joan needed to get out of this house, sell it and make a fresh start. It was the least she deserved after the crappy life she’d had so far. She wanted so much for Joan in the future but, watching as Joan's body bent to the beat, it began to dawn on Maggie that her maternal affection was in danger of being overwhelmed by the tingling glow of guilty attraction that had been building throughout the evening.

 

The song ended and Joan flung herself down next to Maggie as the next single clicked into place. The wine was hitting her hard, making her feel reckless, but she didn’t care, she was enjoying herself. “Can I have a cigarette?” she asked giddily, immediately reaching across Maggie's lap for the golden packet.

“Uh, sure!” came the surprised reply. Joan's sudden weight across her thighs, the burning heat bleeding through her thin trousers and Joan's even thinner dress, and Joan's hand gripping her knee as she slowly pushed herself back into her seat sent hammering bolts of electricity through Maggie's clit. Crossing her legs against the helpless throb, Maggie groped for the matches and clumsily struck one.

 

Their eyes locked over the dancing flame and Joan was painfully aware that she was having strong feelings about Maggie and that she was definitely feeling more than a bit funny right now. Her playful lunge across Maggie's legs, the closeness of their bodies had kick-started a chain reaction through her that left a deep, distracting tingle which hardened her already tight nipples and which pooled in the hot tightness of her cunt.  As if in a dream, Joan slowly pulled the cigarette from between her lips and focused on Maggie's soft mouth before fixing her once more with a piercing look.  Maggie knew what that look could lead to and hastily glanced away, shaking out the match and straightening up in her seat before lighting a cigarette of her own as a distraction. 

 

“So,” she began as she tried to steady her breathing, “do you ever wonder where your mother is now? We can try and find her if you like.” She winced inwardly at this clumsy segue into safer territory, but the wine and fatigue were steadily working on lowering her self-control until she could no longer ignore her growing attraction to this cloistered young woman. Especially not with looks like that passing between them. But it seemed to work; Joan's face became serious once more.

“She’s dead. She died ten years ago. Dad told me just before …..”

“Before his accident?”

Joan seemed to roll this idea around for a moment. “Accident; yes, just before that.” Joan took an awkward pull of her cigarette and focused on the glowing tip as she twirled it in the ashtray.

“Poor bitch! Well at least she managed to find some happiness before she carked it.”

Joan lifted her dark head and searched Maggie’s eyes for an explanation. “You know where she went after she left us?”

“No, not exactly, but I heard that she found a home in a women’s commune somewhere in WA. That’s a probably good place to start if you want to know what happened to her?”

 

“Do you know why she left?” Joan sucked on her cigarette and hoped the story didn’t match her father’s version of events.

“For love, she had an affair. Look, your dad married her just after her 16th birthday and I don’t think she had much choice in the matter – rumour has it he paid a hefty dowry to get himself an Australian wife.”

“A dowry? You mean he bought her?”

“Good enough. They say your dad met them both on a diplomatic visit – he was demonstrating Russian prowess in a fencing display. Your granddad was stationed at the international base on Hokkaido and had supposedly racked up some rather large gambling debts – and the Yakuza don’t take kindly to welchers. Somehow, your dad paid off what he owed. “

“And then he married Mum.”

“Looks like it, and then took her back to Russia. Life was hard for her there. She was so isolated.  She adored you and your brother but she never wanted a man,” Maggie paused and crushed out her unwanted cigarette and swallowed the last of her wine. “You understand what I’m saying? _Any_ man?”

“You mean she was …?” This was unbelievable! Joan's mind was in a whirl.

The older woman nodded and continued. “Then he defected and you all came to Australia and she found someone she _did_ want, and then, everything changed for her.”

“And us,” replied Joan hollowly. “She just left us here. With _him_.”

 

“Hey, come on now,” Maggie slipped her arm around Joan's shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze.  “She was desperate to take you and Brian with her, Joan, but Ivan wouldn’t let her. He bashed her when he found out what she was planning and threatened to hunt her down and kill you all if she tried. It must have torn her apart knowing how easily he could have done it too.”

“Well, he _was_ a man of his word,” said Joan in a voice as dark and hateful as her expression. For years she’d believed her mother has abandoned them all because she didn’t love them, no wonder her father had altered events to suit his own ends. She stabbed out her cigarette and turned to face Maggie. “How do you know so much about it all anyway? I can’t believe that Dad would have told you any of this.”

“No, he never referred to it, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him; I doubt he ever talked to anybody about it. No, your mother had a few friends amongst the Officers’ wives; well, one of them finally left her husband and was more than happy to repeat what she knew over a little, ah, tea and sympathy. But I didn’t know any of this when I lived here. But it explains a lot about why he hated lesbians so much.”

 

“Do I look like her, Maggie?”

“I don’t know. Don’t you have any photographs?”

“No, none.”

“You mean you don’t even know what your own mother looks like?” Maggie asked incredulously.

“No.”

“What about your grandparents? Don’t they have any?”

“Dad said that they were dead too. But then, he told me so many lies that that’s probably not true either.”

“We can soon find out if it’s not. If either of them are still alive then they’ll be getting an Army pension of some kind – it may take some time for them to respond, but the Army is obliged to inform you if one is.”

 

Joan stared at Maggie with uncertain wonder. To possibly discover her mother’s family was almost a fantastical thought, but did she really want to meet the people that had sold their daughter to a man like her father? She just didn’t know, it was all too much to think about right now… “Can we talk about it later, Maggie?”

“Yeah, of course we can. I’ll be in town for a few days yet, Joan, there’s no rush.” She gripped Joan's fingers and gave them a reassuring shake, holding them for a second or two longer than necessary before quickly pulling her hands back into her lap when she felt the impulse to take one of Joan's long, pale hands, uncurl her fingers and tenderly trace the lines of her palm.

A sudden yawn made Maggie realise just how tired she was. “Got any coffee in that kitchen of yours, Joan?” she asked scratching her short nails through her hair.

 

Scuffs on the lino marked the place where the heavy table and chairs once stood. In the absence of furniture Maggie leaned against the counter top as Joan busied herself with the kettle. “So, come on, Joan, what are your plans now?”

Lifting her wineglass to her lips Joan pondered the question and took a small sip. “I don’t know, sell the house, find a degree that I want to do and then get a job I suppose.” She turned to face the older woman, a stabbing tightness gripping her belly as she glimpsed the swell of Maggie’s breast through a gap in her shirt buttons. 

“You don’t want to try for the Fencing Team again?”

“Nah, that was Dad’s dream.” She adjusted the single mug so that it lined up with the sugar bowl – a minor distraction from the vague hope of the two of them kissing that had been filling her mind for the last hour or so. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it, and I’m good at it, but it isn’t my life.”

“So why don’t you spread your wings a little and see what the world has to offer you?”

“Like what?” Joan filled Maggie’s mug with boiling water and carried it over to her.

“Well,” she ventured, “how about something that fires your senses; the Arts perhaps, or food and wine, music, different cultures, different beliefs – anything that takes your fancy really. You should enjoy life a bit before committing yourself.”

“Anything that takes my fancy?” Joan replied thickly and set their drinks down on the side. She burned with a sudden overwhelming feeling of liquid heat, the thought of Maggie kissing her making her breathless.

“Within reason, yeah.” That look was back in Joan's eyes. There was an electricity between them that raised the hairs on the back of Maggie's neck and made her skin crawl. She cleared her throat, “you can do what you want…” she said trying to maintain her composure.

 

Joan said nothing but leaned in and kissed Maggie hesitantly on the side of her mouth, making the older woman straighten up in surprise. Her dark eyes sparkled with nervous excitement and apprehension as she leaned into Maggie's solid body and kissed her firmly on the lips. Oh god! They were so soft! Her lids fluttered shut and her lips moved against Maggie's, kissing her with a chaste passion that told of her inexperience. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and she was pushed gently, yet firmly away.

 

Joan’s red lips trembled as Maggie searched her face (full of embarrassed disappointment) with troubled eyes and she weighed up the situation. Every instinct told Maggie to kiss Joan back but she adamantly refused to listen to her heart, she cared far too much for the damaged young woman to weaken and take what she wanted.

“Joan, I didn’t come here tonight to seduce you.” She may be an adult now, Maggie was well aware of that, but she was terribly naïve and inexperienced – and grieving; she was vulnerable. And with their history it felt almost, well, incestuous. No, no matter how much she wanted to, it just didn’t sit well with her. “I know you think that, right now, this is what you want, what I want - and maybe it is - but our timing is terrible. Look,” she said gently, letting her hands fall from Joan's shoulders, “what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want something to happen that shouldn’t, not now anyway. It’s not right.” Jesus, she sounded like some second-rate actor in some B-movie! Next thing she’d be trotting out was that Joan was drunk and would feel differently tomorrow! Yet, as was the nature of clichés, it was true.

“No, it is, Maggie.  It _is_ right. I _do_ want this,” she stated with conviction. “I knew it from the minute I opened the door.”

“Joan,” Maggie sighed, “it’s not. Wanting something and getting it are two completely different things so please, don’t force the issue. I’m too tired to argue with you; I can’t and I won’t. Not tonight.”

 

Tears brimmed in Joan's eyes and threatened to spill as she turned away, angry at Maggie's refusal and at herself for fouling things up. “What was it you told me? It’s not wrong to love who you love? And now you're telling me I’m wrong to want this!”

“Oh, love, I’m not saying that at all! I just think you need to see how you feel once everything’s settled down a bit. I’ll still be around, you know.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll be in Perth,” she whined miserably, hating the way she sounded but unable to keep the self-pity from her voice.

“I can just as easily work out of Brisbane.”

What good was that to her? Joan spun back round. “But that’s on the other side of the state! I’d never see you!”

“Not if you stay in this shithole you won’t!” Maggie retorted. “It’s not as flash as Sydney or Melbourne but Bris has hell of a lot more to offer you than this two-horse town.” Her tone softened, “make a fresh start, love, and see where it takes you. But before we can even start to think about any of that, I need a good night’s sleep.” She surveyed the sulky young woman’s truculent features with a weary regard. “I’m going to call a cab.”

 

*****

 

On either side of town, in equally spartan rooms, two women slowly undressed.

Their thoughts focusing on the other, soft hands flowed over their naked bodies, long fingers caressing soft curves and damp clefts, their soft fingertips delving between hot, wet folds and delivering them from the sweet ache that each had inspired in the other.


End file.
